


Star Wars Episode VII: Reborn

by sparkstoflames



Series: Sequel Trilogy Rewrite [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Romance, Other, Slow Burn, doing what disney couldn't, sequel trilogy rewrite, there's a lot going on here, those cowards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22410787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkstoflames/pseuds/sparkstoflames
Summary: THE FIRST ORDER threatens the peace of the galaxy. Children have gone missing from families all across the outer-rim, mostly undetected by the New Republic. Leia Organa leads the RESISTANCE, but with little support from outside troops. With the new threat of The First Order and their possible army, Leia begins to search for her lost brother, Luke Skywalker.or...The story of Finn, Rey, and Poe.
Relationships: BB-8 & Poe Dameron & Finn, Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: Sequel Trilogy Rewrite [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612858
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Star Wars Episode VII: Reborn

_FN-2187_

When he’d first been told his new name, he let the series repeat in his head. It sounded… clunky. He had vague memories of other languages, of words falling past lips with elegance and ease. But now, he only has basic. Only has the way higher-ups harshly say _FN-2187._

FN-2187 has known the four walls of his bunker for as long as he can remember. He knows the feeling of the cold metal as it brushes against his fingertips, he knows the way the bunks can feel a bit too close at times, he knows the soft cries he hears at night, on nights he can’t sleep.

And FN-2187 knows this is his life.

Simulation after simulation, slowly eating away at any sense of himself. Any sense of humanity he thought he once possessed. But this is the right thing to do. That’s what he had been told. The enemy is dangerous, the enemy will show no mercy, so neither can you.

He gets high ranks in the simulations, he ends up being a high-ranking stormtrooper. He lands every shot he takes and he reminds himself, _this is the right thing to do._

He gets called for simulation training early one day. As he puts on his armor, the other troopers in his barrack lay silently in their bunks. The moment the door begins to slide closed behind him, he can hear their soft whispers.

He wonders if they know something he doesn’t.

When he arrives to the training room, it seems oddly formal. There’s two troopers outside the door, waiting for him to arrive.

“FN-2187.” He says his name firmly, trying to shake out the way his heart seems to pound against his chest. The two troopers move out of the way of the door in sync. He moves closer, watching as the door hisses open in front of him.

He’d heard about Captain Phasma before. Stories of how she planned on creating the most elite stormtroopers yet, how she was fierce, how she showed no mercy. He never expected to see her standing behind the door, never expected to have her watch him in a training situation.

“FN-2187,” She calls. Her voice is regal, focused. Her silver armor shines a bit in the overly-bright light of the room, black cape hanging over her left shoulder and giving her an intimidating stance, almost making her look bigger.

“Yes, Captain,” He replies. She walks towards him, her head tilting to the side as she seems to almost glance over him. He’s thankful she can’t see his face, can’t see the way his eyes flit over her helmet to find even an ounce of emotion somewhere in the reflective metal.

“Do you know why you’ve been sent here?” She asks.

“No, Captain.”

She turns, heading towards a control panel at the edge of the room. FN-2187 watches as her hands fly over a few buttons, and then there’s a hologram in between them, flashing soft blue light across the room.

And on that hologram, is him. There’s a picture of, what he’d have to assume, is him in his armor, his name displayed over his head. To the side, his stats are listed.

Simulation Success Rate - 98%

Accuracy - 99%

Obedience - 100%

Leadership Capability - Top 99th Percentile

Speed - Top 99th Percentile

Intelligence - Top 98th Percentile

And then, at the very bottom of the list, in big bold letters, there sat the word _Capable_.

FN-2187 stares at the hologram for a moment. He rereads the statistics, rereads the results. He still isn't sure what this all means. Is he being promoted? Does Phasma just want to evaluate him? Is he going to be part of her elite battalion?

He let his eyes fall over the data once again before Phasma’s voice calling his name rang once more between them.

“Today, you will be undergoing a simulation with three other high-ranking stormtroopers.” She moves her hands across the pad once more, bringing up the data for three more troopers. FN-2199, FN-2000, and FN-2003. She pauses, bringing her attention back to FN-2187. “You will be their leader.”

Phasma then opens the door to the room, revealing the other three troopers outside, standing in perfect order against the wall. The three of them come inside, lining up once again in front of FN-2187 and Phasma.

“Prepare for the simulation,” Phasma’s voice sounds from next to him. He turns, heading towards the simulation chair as the other three follow him closely behind.

They all settle in the chairs, FN-2187 watches as the other three do the same, closely examining their demeanors. The reader in his helmet tells him each of their names, the blue box in the corner reading their name and rank. FN-2003 seems nervous, he’s rigid in his movements as he sits down, almost like he feels out of place. But he’d seen the stats, he knew he had earned his spot on this team.

FN-2187 turns his attention back in front of him as Phasma walks ahead of the new team. She stands, hands behind her back as she speaks.

“You will be looking for two resistance soldiers amongst the villagers. They have intel on the First Order, and will likely be looking for an escape. Once you find them, eliminate the targets immediately. Show no mercy. This is a high profile village for the Republic, so don’t be overly aggressive.”

“Yes, Captain,” The four troopers say in unison. FN-2187 feels the cord prick into the back of his helmet, and then he closes his eyes, letting the simulation take over.

* * *

FN-2187 opens his eyes to a desert village. It isn’t like one he had ever seen before in simulations. It appears to be bustling with people, children running around with high-pitched screams as they chase after each other, and there are multiple traders walking about. He glances behind him to see the rest of his team doing the same thing he is—scanning. Each of them holds their blasters close to them as they take small steps forward.

The sand is uneven beneath their feet, making all of them cautious with every step as they slowly make their way towards the village. The air is hot, and even with the natural cooling properties in their armor, FN-2187 still feels the way the sun hits him, could still feel his armor heating up at the contact. But they march on, finally making it to the market.

There’s shouting from around them, different vendors yelling out the names of their different products. None of them seem to pay too much mind to the troopers in the middle of the square. Children continue to run around them, and adults just glance them up and down with confused expressions before continuing on.

“I don’t see anything odd,” FN-2199 says from behind him. FN-2187 turns to look at him. He goes speak when he sees someone glance back at them before turning a corner behind a building.

“Hold on,” FN-2187 says. He moves closer to where the man went behind the building, the other three troopers watching him closely. “I think I saw something. Nines, Zeroes,” He pauses, “hope you don’t mind me calling you that—go over to that building, there should be an exit back there.” He turns to FN-2003, “You, come with me.”

He watches as Nines and Zeroes move to where he had pointed them. Soon enough, the two of them mostly slip into the crowd, leaving FN-2187 and FN-2003 alone.

They move towards where he had seen the man. The building’s old, sand in any cracks in the stone and multiple pieces had clearly been added as the world took its toll on the structure.

FN-2187 looks past the corner, FN-2003 close behind him. He can see footprints in the sand that covers the stone path, his eyes follow them as they go around the corner once again.

“Do you really think she’d make it this easy?” FN-2003 whispers from behind him. FN-2187 shrugs, taking a moment to look back at his fellow trooper before rounding the corner to keep following the trail.

“I don’t know, but you’re right, something seems off. Keep an eye out.”

He can’t hear anything. No voices, no footsteps, not even quiet, hidden breaths. Something’s off. FN-2187 peaks past the corner once more, just barely giving himself enough to see what’s going on. He catches a glimpse of two people, a man and a woman, huddled together in a corner. The man is holding a comm, looking up towards the sky. The woman is sat on the ground next to him, fearfully looking between him, the sky, and the data pad she holds in front of her.

“If we just-“

“It’ll be fine, if we stay here, we’ll be fine,” The man whispers back at her. But then he glances up at the sky again, and FN-2187 can see the way he gains back that tension in his brows.

He goes back into hiding against the wall, and watches as Nines and Zeroes round the corner. He signals for them to stop, and they both obey, mirroring his position with his back against the wall. It’s then when he hears the familiar sound of X-Wings entering the atmosphere. He looks up, and then realizes that _that_ was what they were waiting for. FN-2003 nudges FN-2187 from behind, nodding towards where the two resistance fighters are hiding. FN-2187 nods, and glances towards Nines and Zeroes. They both nod.

FN-2187 leads them as they turn, blasters held at the ready, to eliminate the targets. They both glance up at the stormtroopers, and then, where there had been smiles of what he can only assume was relief, are terrified eyes. The woman’s hands go up, covering her face as turns to the side, forcing her eyes shut.

“Please,” The man says, “We know there’s good in you.”

FN-2187’s finger stutters on the trigger. He’s lined up, if he shoots, it’s to kill, but this- this can’t be right. The simulation’s never done something like this before-

Before he can even reconsider, he hears two shots of blaster fire from beside him. FN-2003 and Nines both let their blasters drop. FN-2187 watches as the two resistance soldiers slump down, falling against each other.

It’s only a simulation, he reminds himself.

Zeroes walks over to grab the data pad, and then steps on the comm, breaking it into pieces against the stone and sand. They hear another X-Wing fly overhead, they have to get back to the starting point.

“C’mon,” He starts to make his way out of the tiny alleyway, away from the bodies, “We need to go.”

The four of them break out into a run, the sand underneath their feet causing each one of them to stumble. They make their way to the market, and the crowd’s all stood together, watching the X-Wings fly overhead. One of them lands, just a little West of their starting point. He watches as a pilot gets out, blaster in hand.

“Let’s go!” Zeroes yells, and he’s already making his way into the deep sand. It was difficult to walk on, but now the running seems to make everything worse. Behind him, he hears someone grunt. He looks back to see FN-2003 on the ground, scrambling to try and get up.

FN-2187 glances back towards the front of him. Nines and Zeroes are well ahead, but FN-2003 will be punished if he doesn’t get out of the simulation with them. So he quickly runs back, holding his hand out to him.

“We have to go,” He says, and FN-2003 looks up at him, before grabbing his hand and pulling himself up. Together, they both run through the sand, blaster fire flying past them, before they finally start to catch up.

Nines turns back to see where they are, and then pulls his blaster up. FN-2187 sees the shot fired, and hears the yell from behind him, but he decides to not look back. He isn’t sure if he can take looking back.

He takes another step, and then he feels the sand disappear from under his feet. He hears the click of the cord separating from his helmet, and opens his eyes to see Phasma standing in front of them once more.

“Your performance has been deemed adequate,” She says. Her gaze sweeps across them, lingering on FN-2187 for just a moment longer. “The four of you will be moved to a new shared barracks. There, you will work on mission strategy. You will report here every other day for the next four weeks for simulation training. The days you are not here, you will be doing ship patrols and monitoring Resistance communications. The stormtroopers outside will lead you to your new quarters.”

She stands in front of them when she finishes speaking. None of them move, all too afraid to defy her, even on accident.

“Is that understood?” She asks.

“Yes, Captain,” They all reply.

She turns on her heel, exiting the room with the hiss of the door. They all stand, following her out the door to find the two troopers from before standing ahead of them.

“Take them,” She orders as she turns the corner, heading down a corridor to the left. The two troopers are wordless as they turn, heading through the bright corridors to their new barracks. Groups of troopers pass by them, and he can feel their gazes as they walk by. Every trooper here knows the routes, knows who should be where and when they should be there, and these troopers know this is _weird._

They arrive in front of a door, and one of the troopers types in a code, the door hissing as it opens. They don’t say anything, just step aside and allow the new squadron to walk inside.

“Stay here. The Captain will call you if she needs you,” One of them says, and then the door slides closed, leaving the four of them in their new room, shrouded in darkness.

Nines flips a switch, and the room finally flickers to life. There’s two bunks on either side of the walls at the front, and a workspace in the back. FN-2187 moves to pick up a data pad that’s been placed on the desk.

_FN Squadron_ , it reads, _await your next orders._ He tries to scroll to the next page, but is met with the message once again. He sighs, placing it back down on the desk in front of him. Behind him, the other members of his new squadron have already claimed their bunks, sitting down in silence. FN-2187 takes the last bed—directly under FN-2003—and sits down, taking a moment to absorb all the information.

It’s a lot.

* * *

Each of them got called for patrol duty separately, but it was only shortly after FN-2187 was sent back to the barracks that each of them found their way to the quarters as well.

The thing about the new quarters is that, FN-2187 knew the walls of his old barracks. He knew where he was in the room simply by brushing his fingers against the indentations. No matter how uniform, there was always something there. A trooper may have marked something there after a mission, the scrape of armor against the walls, there was _something_ that resembled humanity. Or whatever the troopers had left of it. But here, there’s no trace of life. He can hear the soft breathing of Nines and Zeroes from across the room, can feel the way FN-2003 shakes their shared bunk as he tosses and turns.

“Hey,” FN-2187 whispers, trying not to wake the other two, “’03, what’s wrong?”

He hears a sigh from above him.

“Can I come down there?”

He considers it for a moment, turns the idea in his head. If Zeroes and Nines woke, they’d probably question them, ask them why would jeopardize future missions by not sleeping, but there’s something, something about the air in those barracks, something about the way FN-2003’s voice sounds.

For the sake of humanity, right?

“Yeah, c’mon,” He sits up in his bed, turning to the side and letting his feet dangle off. ’03 comes down the ladder, trying not to make too much noise as he comes to sit next to FN-2187.

“Do you ever just-“ ’03 pauses, FN-2187 can almost feel his hesitation. ’03 lets out a sigh, finally looking over at FN-2187. “Do you ever want more than this?”

His stomach drops. _Of course_ he wants more than this. He’s wanted more than whatever hell this life is since he can remember. He’s wanted more than uncomfortable bunks and barked orders and _numbers as a name_ for years.

But does he say it?

His eyes flit towards Zeroes and Nines, he can still hear their steady breathing, maybe he can say it. Just once.

“Yes,” He replies. Tension lifts from ’03’s shoulders.

“I- I don’t want to die but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.” He looks forward at Zeroes and Nines, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Do you think they feel the same way?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t even have names,” He whispers. FN-2187 watches as he looks down at his hands, analyzing his palms. “I don’t even know what I look like.”

’03’s breath catches in his throat, and FN-2187’s heart sinks. ’03 looks up at him, he can see the tears brimming in his eyes-

“They’re green,” FN-2187 says.

’03 shakes his head. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re green. And your hair, it’s short, but it’s black.”

“Green?” He whispers back. FN-2187 smiles, a breath of laughter passing his lips.

“Yes, they’re green. And-“ FN-2187 pauses, he thinks back to the mission that day, when ’03 had fallen in the sand, “And your name is Slip.”

“Slip,” He repeats. He looks at FN-2187 like he’s given him the best gift the galaxy has to offer. He places his hand on FN-2187’s shoulder, and in that moment, neither of them really _need_ to speak, but after a moment passes, Slip whispers again.

“If we’re ever presented the opportunity, we’re getting out of here.”


End file.
